Author's infos

Introduction:

Go to x.pgfalcon.com/Selling_Your_Soul.php to download in multiple available formats.

Selling Your Soul
Written and Edited by PgFalcon

The sun was setting in the sky to the west, and I was sitting on the sofa of my two friend’s apartment. A regular day like any other: it promised nothing out of the ordinary might occur… but occur it did.

“Hey!” shouts John as I sit down heavily on his couch. “Be more careful!”

“Sure, sure,” I say dismissively, looking only to placate him but unable to refrain from grinning sardonically.

“I mean it! If you break my couch you’re buying us another one.”

I roll my eyes. John is a short, slightly fat college buddy of mine who has no real innate talents aside from complaining. Below average intelligence coupled with a below average work drive: the only reason he’s in college right now at all is because of his dad’s pushing. He’s barely passing classes that I myself tested out of easily… but we can’t all be geniuses can we?

“Anybody want a coke?” asks Danny, holding out a silver can while he bends over into the fridge.

Danny is skinny, entirely un-athletic, and has been a good friend since high school. Until I met him, he probably never even touched a basketball or football in his life. A compulsive gamer and fantasizer, he is also a strangely religious kid and dislikes books other than the bible. I could spend the rest of my life trying to understand him and fail.

He makes up for his oddness with moderate intelligence and a dogged persistence. He studies insanely hard, and through shear effort manages to force straight A’s out of his report card.

I, myself, almost never study. I’ve never really had the need to. Sitting through lectures is usually more than enough for me to get the passing grades I need to stay in school, even (and perhaps especially) in the tougher courses, and in the end that’s all I’m aiming for. Of the three of us I am the genius underachiever. Things just come naturally to me, and for that reason I’ve never really seen why I would ever need to work hard in school. Grades don’t matter nearly as much to me as they do to Danny. Danny himself is just smart enough to realize all of this, and he resents me a little for it, but in the end I’ve helped him more times with his homework than either of us care to count, and he helps motivate me to actually do my homework, so we figure it all to be fair trade in the end.

Plus we all really enjoy hanging out.

Tonight is gaming night. Personally I suck at videogames, mostly due to not having grown up with them, but I love playing anyway. My goal is rarely ever to “win” or come in “first”, but rather I have separate goals in mind and enjoy it all despite a powerful losing streak. Danny and John beat me soundly every time, but in games of physical skill like pool, bowling, darts, and sports I kick their asses equally well, so I usually don’t mind. Right now we’re playing Mario Cart languidly as we wait for the pizza to show up.

And as per usual, it doesn’t take long for our casual conversation to steer towards more philosophical matters.

“And God did make the blue shell, and saw that he fucked up,” I say wryly as I’m knocked out of first place.

“Hey, it’s a legitimate part of the game,” says John.

“Ah, so we’re playing with street rules then?” I reply, having by pure luck picked up a second blue shell, and I use it on him.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” John laughs as he spins out.

“Hey, language,” mumbles Danny.

“Behold: the power of the spoken word. Tis amazing, is it not, that mere vibrations in the air could cause the soul eternal damnation?” I elbow Danny in the ribs to show him I’m joking.

“It isn’t the medium that matters but the meaning,” he mumbles, following suit and speaking poetically. I said before that he’s of only moderate intelligence, but on occasion brighter lights shine through I suppose. I smile.

“Perhaps…”

Then a thought occurs to me.

“But if that were the case: maybe there is more to meaning than just empty words?”

Danny shrugs, but John just looks nonplussed. I take advantage of his distraction to hit him with a banana peel.

“Fuck!”

“John!”

“Danny!” I shout to complete the set, laughing.

I wipe a tear from my eye. I am so easily amused sometimes, but I continue none the less.

“What if, and let us just suspend our disbelief for a moment… what if vibrations in the air, filled with meaning, actually could result in you being damned. Or at least could potentially damn you. What if the universe were just one big sounding board, a computer running a program even, and the resonation of my hidden code were to set off a flag and be received by a being of unimaginable complexity and unknown origin, and said being were to judge me by my vocalizations…”

“Go on,” says Danny. He passed the finish line first, and leans back. John finishes second, and me last. I let out a disappointed sigh.

“Then theoretically we could communicate with such a being.”

“Well of course,” says Danny. “I speak with God daily.”

“But what if we didn’t want to talk to ‘God’? There is another power that supposedly exists isn’t there? Can’t the devil hear us too?”

“Theoretically, yes,” says Danny, though he doesn’t seem to like where this is going.

“So theoretically, a less, might I say, scrupulous nor mysterious being of power might deign to answer us back if we just voice the right meaning.”

Danny’s eyes narrow, and John just sits there.

“I highly doubt that…” he begins.

“But can you say with certainty it wouldn’t happen?”

I cock an eyebrow and give Danny my famous grin. The grin that heralds the start of one of our famous and often ill-thought-out misadventures, though I myself never notice when that sneaky look actually appears on my face. It’s an ill omen to Danny, and even John takes notice.

“We are NOT attempting contact with the devil just to prove me wrong here,” argues Danny.

“Au contraire! I intend to enter this venture to try and prove you right! Should I fail: no big deal. If we are successful, however… we could theoretically talk with a fallen angel. Think of how enlightening that would be?!”

“So you’re justifying it with science are you?” John says with a laugh.

“Yes. If the devil exists, and we can assume that a code of meaning can get his attention, I see no reason why we couldn’t create a message which he would be unable to resist answering.”

“I really, really, don’t like this,” says Danny. “Not that it would work in a million years mind you, but rather because you obviously don’t understand what Christianity is all about. You can’t just go around summoning the devil-”

“Test number one: I request an audience with the devil.”

“Hey! Stop that!”

“Test number two: if the devil should grant me an audience, I will owe him one favor.”

“I said stop!”

“Test number three: if the devil should grant me an audience, I will sign a contract in blood forfeiting my first born son to him.”

“STOP!”

“Test number four: if the devil should grant us an audience, I will sell him my soul…”

Now keep in mind I only said that at the time because I felt absolutely sure nothing was going to happen. Well…. something did happen. Imagine my face when it turned out Danny was right.

The lights in the room started glowing dark red, the floor started shaking, distant screams filled the air, and a terrible laugh flooded our brains. You know: the usual satanic stuff.

And then he arrived.

He looked like an exceptionally geeky lawyer, stepping through a doorway that just materialized in the center of the room. I caught a glimpse of a lake of lava before the door closed behind the man, and the blood seeping from the walls (as well as all the other demonic party-tricks), disappeared like a flash as soon as the doorway was gone.

It’s safe to say that we all pissed ourselves just a little bit. Some of us more than others perhaps.

“You fucking idiot,” mutters Danny. I’ve never heard him curse before or since.

“Which one of you said he’d sell his soul?” asks the lawyer.

“That’d be me. I’d hate to go back on my word.”

“Oh good! And I’d hate to have to drag you back to hell with me. Sign here please.”

The geeky lawyer pops open his leather briefcase, and inside is what looks like a credit card receipt all laid out nice and neat next to a black fountain pen.

“What’s this?” I ask, picking up the pen. “I sign this and lose my soul?”

“Nope: you lost your soul the second you spoke the words. The Master will give you a private audience after you die. This is just confirmation of receipt of The Book.”

“Ah,” I say, scribbling my name at the bottom. The fountain pen’s ink is red, and I can’t help but think that it uses blood. “What’s the book then?”

“Just a handy guide to becoming a demon and/or angel of death and destruction. Your particular job, during your remaining time on earth, will be to sow chaos. We have a feeling you’ll be great at it. Just be sure to follow the rules listed in chapter twelve and you’ll be fine.”

Underneath the receipt is a tiny black book with a pentagram carved into the binding. I pick it up.

“Good luck with your new powers! Your official title is now Angel of Chaos! Read the book carefully!”

More screaming and blood red lighting and sulfurous flames fill the air as the door reappears, and the lawyer disappears through it. Then it’s all gone, and I have nothing to show for it all but a little black book half as small as a deck of cards.

“Tell me you guys saw that,” I say after a rather long and awkward pause.

Shaky nods from both of them.

“Good.”

I grin widely as I open the leather binding.

Congratulations on becoming a fallen angel!
You will report directly to both God and Satan.
Your title is ANGEL OF CHAOS.
Your job is to SOW CHAOS.
So enjoy yourself, and remember to do your duties daily!

I turn the book around and show it to John and Danny.

“Check it out. I guess I’m an Angel of Chaos now.”

They both continue to sit on the couch, stunned, so I flip to the next page.

Chapter One: Your Abilities

As a lesser Angel of Chaos created under the direct authority of “the devil”, and due to your unusual secondary status as a still-living-human-male, your powers and abilities are going to be significant.

However: as with all demons there will are rules regarding the exercising of said power. See ch.12 for details.

What should concern you currently is that YOUR demonic strength is directly proportional to both the number of souls in your possession, as well as the amount of CHAOS you have created within the boundaries of THE RULES.

Other abilities will be made available for your use as you gain strength, intelligence, and cunning.
Harvesting souls is also another method to unlock new and more powerful abilities.
As an ANGEL OF CHAOS you can also sow chaos to gain power.

Due to the duality of your new nature: you can also gain temporary power through both the suffering of others (including souls in your possession), as well as by carrying out DIVINE JUSTICE.

“Huh,” I say after closing the book. I still have questions, but right now I feel like testing this out to see if it’s really ‘real’. I’ll bet you can guess right now the first thing I did too.

“Force-push!” I shout with a smile, shoving my hand at the toy figurine of Master Chief. He falls over limply.

I beckon to Master Chief and he manages to lift slowly off the table and float over in front of me.

“Cool, right?”

“No…” Danny says at last right as John shouts:

“That’s amazing!”

Danny elbows John.

“No it isn’t! He’s going to hell now!”

“No he isn’t,” argues John.

“Um, technically,” I say interrupting. “I sort of belong to both hell and heaven now. The devil has claim to my soul. Heaven has claim to everything else. I’ll be spending time in both places when I die… but just as I won’t taste the fruits of paradise I won’t feel the fires of hell. There should be some good conversation to pass the time though. I’m an angel of chaos or something. Technically I’ve ‘fallen’, but to be honest regular angels are waaaaay too stuffy anyways… sort of like Danny actually. I’ve got the best of both worlds now.”

“How can you say that?!” shouts Danny. “How do you know that?”

“Oh: I’m guessing it’s my power of knowledge level 1. I also have levitation, self-modification, and FEAR.”

Both Danny’s and John’s pupils dilate slightly, but not much happens. Again: weak sauce…

“So… this is levitation then?” says John catching on quick. He gets up off the couch and stares fascinatedly at the floating toy.

“Yup. Level one. The more souls I reap, the more chaos I sow, the more bad-people I punish, and the more suffering I cause: the more powerful my abilities become, and the more abilities I gain access to.”

“Cool!” says John. Danny rolls his eyes.

“Yup… pretty… uh…. Cool…erm…. Ah! Ow!”

“What’s going on?” shouts John in alarm.

But I can’t answer him. My back is exploding.

Huge black wings are exploding from my back to be precise.

“RAAHHhh!” I scream as the new appendages open wide and fill the room, my shirt hanging in shreds from the feathers. I really liked that shirt too…

I nearly fall over, supporting myself with a coffee table, as I pant to try and catch my breath.

“Damn that hurt!” I manage to say. I can feel the new muscles and tendons and bones in the wings, and manage to fold them up somewhat neatly behind me.

“What was that?” asks Danny.

“What does it look like?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “I didn’t just grow a feathery backpack if that’s what you’re thinking. Let me think here for a second. Ah. Got it. Apparently this is my angel form. I accidentally transformed into my angel form… I think I got a demon form as well. Ouchie…”

“Let’s see it!” shouts John.

“Like hell! That fucking hurt!”

“Language,” murmurs Danny. I roll my eyes.

“Whatever,” I reply.

“I want wings…” John says wistfully, and we both look over to see John making a face we all know too well by now. He’s screwing himself up for something.

“John! Don’t!” shouts Danny, but he can’t stop him.

“I want to sell my soul to the devil!”

Crickets chirp somewhere.

John opens his eyes confusedly, and Danny falls backwards into the chair with his hand on his forehead.

“Did I not say it right?” he asks.

A small flash of flame heralds the arrival of a piece of paper in my hand. It reads:

Receipt of Sale of (1) soul to Angel of Chaos in Devil’s Stead

“Nope,” I say with a small laugh. “You just sold your soul to me for nothing.”

“What! Give it back then! I want wings!”

“You didn’t ask for wings, and I’m not giving it back.”

“That’s not fair!! I didn’t even sell it to you anyway!!!”

“The devil owns all souls in possession of fallen angels, and I guess since he couldn’t be bothered I became the de-facto purchaser of your soul since I was close by. How hilarious is that?”

My little black book suddenly buzzes, and I open it curiously. It automatically opens its pages to chapter 1. The page has changed.

Then a sudden breeze flips the pages of the tiny book violently until it stops halfway through at Ch.12.

RULES:

1). The human population at large may not become aware of the existence of Angels nor Demons on Earth.
2). The human population at large may not become aware of the existence of supernatural forces on Earth

3). You may not use your abilities in ways other than intended.

4). You may not break a promise or go back on your word.

5). The violation of any of these rules will result in “Correction” of the situation, and “Punishment” of said trespassing angel.

6). Rules are subject to change without warning.

Pretty easy rules to follow.

Suddenly the doorbell rings. I answer it without thinking and find that it’s the pizza finally arriving.

The poor kid’s eyes become the size of saucers, and I realize that he’s looking at my wings.

“Oh, this is just a costume,” I say, taking the receipt from him, signing it (with a good tip added), grabbing the pizza, slamming the door, and dropping it on the counter to be immediately forgotten. The pizza guy’s car peels out in the parking lot.

“What was I doing now…. Oh yea: hey, Danny? Want wings?”

“Hey!” shouts John indignantly, but I shush him.

“I have the power to give you wings right now. Want them?”

Danny rolls his eyes.

“Nice try. Stick to hoodwinking idiots… no offense John.”

“None taken?”

“Ah well, I tried,” I say with a sigh. “Who wants to watch me test out my powers?”

“Me!” shouts John.

“Sure, whatever,” says Danny.

“Coolio. I want to see my ‘demon’ form anyway… so…. Um… demon-form activate?”

John snickers.

I experience mind-blowing pain.

I feel like I’m being burned alive as red scales ripple across my skin. My spine stretches and slides out of my ass and brings thin scales and sinewy muscles with it, sliding down my pant leg and splitting my jeans. My neck stretches as well, and I shrink a little, down to only five and a half feet tall, while my fingers and toes become clawed and my feet become digitigrade. All the hair on my body disappears, and my mouth pushes out a little to become a short muzzle that rapidly fills with razor sharp teeth and a thin, flat tongue. My vision sharpens dramatically, and so does my hearing and other senses. My butt swells a little, and my hips widen accordingly, and my waist slims down.

Wait, what?

But there’s no stopping it now.

My legs grow long and sexy. Breasts unfurl from my chest and hide timidly behind the remaining shreds of my t-shirt. My dick and balls tuck up and into me, and the remaining cleft in between my legs hollows out a tunnel into my belly terminating in a womb. Almost instantly I feel myself grow wet and needy. My tail plays out across the ground, long and thin like a whip. I flex my toes and gouge deep gashes in the carpet.

For a moment I’m lost in this new body. The sensations of my skin. Of my sex. It’s blissful. I could just lie down and enjoy the pleasures being a demon all day.

But then my eyes open and I see John and Danny staring at me.

“Oh SHIT.” I say.

“Language,” mutters Danny, with his jaw hanging slack. A wet spot in his jeans suggests that he might have jizzed himself a little. My nose confirms it.

I look down to see that my clothes are mostly in tatters. Basically all that is left is my left pant-leg and my boxers. My sneakers are toast.

I am also, most definitely, the sexiest thing the three of us have ever seen.

“Well this is unfortunate,” I state to break the growing silence. I can feel my vulva grow so wet that I have to fight to ignore it. This body seems to be extraordinarily easily aroused.

“Perhaps I should change back,” I say, almost to myself.

“No! Don’t!”

I look up in surprise. I could see that sort of reaction coming from John. But Danny?

He’s blushing furiously.

“I mean…” he stammers, unable to look at me now. I grin.

“Ooo, what’s this I see? Horny little Danny was a-looking at me!”

“Please stop it…” he moans, rolling his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He’s getting a boner, even after jazzing in his pants, and is trying to discretely hide it.

“Stop what?” I say bashfully, squeezing my arms together to make my breasts jut though the shreds of my poor t-shirt. My nipples sure are perky.

“That,” he says plainly.

“Ooo, you like boobies Danny?” I tap into my newfound power as I say it.

“It’s either that or nothing. I’m supposed to sow chaos and dish out divine justice. Seemed like an innocent way to get that ball rolling on both counts.”

Danny’s face is one of pouting disbelief, but as he stands there and holds his fleshy orbs he definitely doesn’t appear entirely upset with the prospect for the moment.

I then turn and look at John, quirking a grin.

“You like what you see?” I ask him, sliding a hand down my side and resting it on my hip.

“No! I mean yes! I mean… oh dear God…”

“What’s with the language today?” Danny mutters, enraptured by his new-found mammaries. His dick is straining at his waistband. I sigh as I realize that there is no way in heck he’ll be able to hold out for the night.

“Relax,” I say, enjoying myself and sitting back down on the couch. “I’m just teasing you… And I can’t go giving you wings or else I’d get in trouble. Breasts are explainable… sort of… but wings would raise questions that wouldn’t have any answers. Man I am liking this body though! I just feel so good right now.”

I find myself almost purring in satisfaction as I let my still rampant arousal wash over me. The bulge in Danny’s pants catches the corner of my eye, but I dismiss it. Later perhaps.

I pick up a controller and we all start gaming again, although Danny is reluctant stop touching himself, and moreover plays very distractedly the rest of the night. He hides it well: but his hard-on doesn’t relent much, and when it wanes in strength it bounces right back stronger than ever. I find myself wishing I could read his mind.

But soon it grows late, and John and Danny head to bed. Pre-cum is smeared all inside Danny’s underwear from his persistent erection, and I myself am rather sticky down there and feel like I could fuck anything.

I say my goodnights and step outside. I came over on my motorcycle, but I don’t think I’m going home just yet, and for once I don’t want to ride.

I want to fly.

I close my eyes and feel the changes wash over me. My scales and tail recede. My face becomes human again. My senses dull and my body grows weak once more. My penis and testes push out of my groin and find their way back into their proper place, and I sigh with relief as my hormones return to normal.

I feel much better: refreshed and more like myself, and hardly notice as the wings unfurl from my back and blanket me in shadow.

I’m not in the least bit sleepy. Perhaps I could try harvesting some souls then? A wicked grin spreads across my face as I lift my wings and take off silently into the night.

***

From the air: everything looks like it’s laid out on a game board. All the little pieces moving around to the tune of a set of rules…. But some pieces don’t follow the rules. It’s those pieces I’m most interested in.

The wind is gentle, but cold. I’ll need to remember to dress warmer next time I go out, and more to the point not let my clothes get torn to shreds by me transforming. Hell, the strips of cloth are more bothersome than anything else, so I rip the remains away and continue on in my boxers. My wings feel fine though: wrapped in feathers as they are, and I drift down to land on the chimney of a nearby house, folding my warm wings around my body and relaxing.

The street next to the house turns out to be steadily busy at this hour. There’s a late-night bar open nearby, and a trickle of passersby are walking home. Young and old, fat and poor, people of all faiths and creeds. Many blatantly drunk. Some just buzzed.

I half expect to be witness to some robbery or act of violence, and formulate plans of how I would go about stopping it and punishing the perpetrators, but nothing of the sort occurs.

After about half an hour of simply observing, I decide that instead perhaps I should sow a little chaos. Something harmless to dip my toe into the waters.

A pack of students, probably in a fraternity together, are walking down the sidewalk. All of them are obviously buzzed and supporting a very drunk fellow between them. He looks very green around the gills, and I sympathize with him but otherwise dismiss him.

They have a couple of ladies with them. Perfect!

Three to be precise. A tall blond that looks bookish, a short and slightly overweight brunette, and a red-head! Ooo-la-la, I do love a good firecrotch!

Well first thing first. Time to give these lucky girls a bit of a make-over. Not that they’re not pretty or anything: it’s just a gift from me to them… and for the world too.

First up: bump their cup sizes up a size each.

The change is pretty minor: but each of the girls instantly seems to notice it. Wasn’t really expecting that, but no big deal.

The girls look pretty confused.

“Did you feel that?” the blond asks the brunette.

“Ya!” she says, lifting her breasts as if in disbelief. “What the heck just happened?”

“Ooo!” squeals the red-head, pressing her bust together. She’s wearing a shirt with a very low-cut neckline, and her bra strap has broken. She must have already been wearing it too small. “Check me out!” she whispers.

The guys realize their dates have stopped walking, and turn around to see them all comparing their busts to each other.

The other strap on the red-head’s bra breaks, and her exquisite breasts finally break completely free inside her clingy t-shirt. She’s already under the influence, and this only causes her to break out into giggles. The bra slides down her belly, and she pulls it out from under her shirt while “supporting” herself with one arm.

Time to change their hormone levels!

Flushes hit each of the girls faces simultaneously as a divine heat smacks them upside the ass, so to speak.

“What’s going on?” asks one of the students. I think I recognize him from somewhere. My calculus class maybe. Sort of looks like a class president type.

“We don’t know!” says the Blond, trying to be serious but failing.

“Was there… *pant*… something in the beer maybe?” asks the brunette.

“Woah woah woah! We did not spike nothing!” says another of the guys. He sounds like he grew up in the country. “You all feeling okay?”

“Um…” says the blonde, blushing harder.

“Oh man,” says the red-head. “I feel horny!”

“Samantha!” shouts the brunette.

“What? It’s true! God, I could totally jump your bones right now Derick,” she says cattishly, addressing the country-boy. “I’m so wet for you.”

Derick gulps and his friends slap him on the back.

“We should all be getting home anyway,” says a handsome fellow with a smile and a wink. “It’s getting late.”

“Who’s gonna take Tom?” says another.

Time for another small push. I don’t think getting some girls to sleep with a bunch of frat-boys counts as real chaos, and in any case it was probably going to happen anyway. Let’s just see how far I can take this.

“Ugh,” says ‘Tom’, and slumps as he stops and sits down on the curb.

“Hey man, you feeling okay?”

“Oh god no,” he slurs, breathing heavily. “Just give me a second.”

Meanwhile:

The blond, while walking forward, stumbles and falls into the nearby hedge where her shirt gets ‘caught’ and rips open, popping all the buttons down the front. She drops to the ground to chase the buttons with her shirt hanging open and displaying a black lace bra.

“Oh!” says the brunette. “Are you okay?” she asks, bending over to help the blond. The ass of her jeans rips straight up the middle and falls down. She isn’t wearing panties.

“Whoa!” shouts the group of guys, and there is much biting of thumbs and shocked smiles of amazement.

Show’s not over fellas.

I bump up their hormone levels just a tiny bit more, and am rewarded as the brunette’s pussy actually gushes.

“Oh god!” she shouts, so red in the face that it’s sad. She tries to pull up her pants, but they only tear further. They were too tight to begin with, and with my help they’re not going back on.

The brunette and Samantha are almost ready. The only one holding back is the blonde who is even now bashfully holding her shirt tightly closed. Well that can be fixed.

I single her out and start slowly amping up her own hormones. She’s almost in a state of shock as her eyes widen in amazement and her body heats up like a furnace. Her inhibitions are strong though, and she manages to stand up straight and start trying to help the brunette. Samantha just stands there, her eyes only for Derick. She’s going to leave her friends and go home alone with this guy if I don’t do something soon, but I have time.

“Can’t I have somebodies jacket?” the blonde asks sharply. A letterman’s jacket is brought forth and she wraps it around the brunettes waist.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she says dazedly.

“I don’t know what’s going on either- ah! AHH! Oh sweet, uuuugh!”

Opps! I might have pushed her hormones a bit too far. She’s creaming herself. There isn’t a limp dick on the entire street. Her muted cries of pleasure don’t carry far, but they do carry. People have begun to notice that something is going on.

The girls are all set. Now for the guys. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

The blond is crouched on the sidewalk and a small wet splotch is growing in the crotch of her pants as she comes down off cloud nine. The guy that must be her boyfriend is beside her now, hand on her shoulder, asking her what was wrong. The other boyfriends take the cue from him, and each go to comfort their girls. The rest of the gang hang’s back and watches. A few have long since taken out their cameras.

Each of the three guys has a straining boner discretely hidden in their waistbands. A baggy shirt and loose jeans serve to hide their shame.

Well I can fix that. I gave the girls a little boost now didn’t I? Let’s give the guys a shot of self-confidence too.

An extra inch should be more than enough... and coupled with a few more wardrobe malfunctions and some encouragement this show might finally get on the road.

Each of the boys immediately notices what is happening. Their eyes go wide as they feel, despite already being at full mast, their pride and joy each continue to grow just a little bit further, swelling way past what they know is normal for them. I give their balls a bit of a boost too.

Next, I send a sharp spike in hormone levels for the guy in with the brunette, I make the ‘wind’ flutter Derick’s shirt, and I make the button pop and the fly unzip for the blonde’s guy.

The brunette’s dude orgasms on the spot, gasping with a thoroughly surprised ‘Gah!’ and leaving a stain halfway up his shirt. Derik’s shirt lifts up and gets caught behind his dick, and the blonde’s guy’s dick springs free from his pants and sticks straight out into the air, straining against the elastic waistband of his boxers and pointing at her mouth as her jaw drops open.

Ooo, an open mouth in front of a large cock eh? She’s first then.

I pull down his boxers for him discretely and give him a gentle shove.

“Who-the-what?” is all he manages to say as he stumbles forward, and I guide his dick into his girlfriend’s mouth cause that’s just the kind of guy I am. I give them both a fresh rush of hormones, and they both moan together as they forget themselves for the moment.

Samantha herself shows initiative as she grabs hold of her boyfriend’s cock and slides it up under her shirt and between her breasts. He is unable to maintain his self-control, and with a devil-may-care-battle-cry of “Aw fuck-it all!” he pumps his meat into his girlfriend’s cleavage. His pre is more than enough to lube her tits up into a slick mess. “Oh my god!” he cries.

“What they hell are they doing?” says someone. “What are they thinking!”

I give the blond a steady flow of more hormones to keep her at it, and she squirts in her pants as she gives her lover public head, growing frantic and less in control of herself by the second.

I increase the brunette’s boyfriend’s libido so that he’ll be ready for round two, then give them a gentle push since she’s not appearing to start anything. I kind of hoped she’d just grab him and have a romp on the street without my help… but I guess I got to do everything myself.

She falls backwards. Her boyfriend tries to catch her. While they’re falling together I pull down his pants and point his dick slightly forwards. I couldn’t ask for a better result as he falls on top of her, her legs splayed wide and her ass hitting pavement as his dick his paydirt.

He ‘accidentally’ slides into her and hilts.

When they freeze solid, both out of shock, I’m forced to pump up his hormones and he does not disappoint as he his rational mind takes a second seat to the fact that he’s inside a woman, and begins to fuck her. He’s blind to the crowd that is even now gathering. The brunette ends up going along for the ride, especially after I increase her sexual sensitivity down there, make her prostate a tad bigger, and shrink her vag just a little. Just to help things along.

I sit back on my heels and admire my handiwork. In five short minutes I went from three buzzed couples coming home from a bar to a public orgy. The blond is sucking dick like there’s no tomorrow and creaming herself again. The brunette has both her legs in the air now and is screaming in ecstasy, and the redhead’s boy has blown his load all over her chest and neck, and now she’s stripping and about to fuck him senseless. I smile as I increase his virility tenfold. They’ll be able to fuck like minxes.

Even more shocking than all that though is that other couples are joining the fun. Most just kissing, a few taking their shirts off and one couple giving each other a hand-job. Shouts and whoops echo through the night air. Word seems to have spread like wildfire through the campus via text as students flood in to watch, and even join, the fun.

Police are coming, so I blow out the lead-cars tires and help steer it to block the street. I end up doing the same to two other cars.

A multitude of “accidents” hold the police off for nearly half an hour… by then the crowd had already grown fairly large, and the small city police-force finds itself overwhelmed.

I found your comment on the cnamuoml atmosphere at Le Pain Quotidien interesting for someone who lives in Germany.In the early sixties just after I had gotten out of two years of militaryduty at the home of the 101st Airborne Division, I found myself inZfcrich, enrolled at school. Talk about culture shock. Sitting in a restaurant, by myself, at a table for two (the place was full), I was introduced to the phrase Ist da noch frei? (is that place yet free?).Not knowing what else to do, I truthfully said yes and the (Swiss) stranger sat down, ordered and I became introduced to the wonderful European custom of cnamuoml breaking bread with total strangers.Something in my personality and heart adapted immediately to this custom. I was recently back in Zfcrich and Berlin, and felt at home againwith a custom we Americans have never really generally adopted. My wife, a born and bred New Yorker, seemed to be delighted with this arrangement also. We have this chain of restaurants in NYC als